


Never Enough Honeymoon

by Trogdor19



Series: New and Improved S4 [7]
Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Honeymoon, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trogdor19/pseuds/Trogdor19
Summary: I send Veronica and Logan on the honeymoon the show never gave them...and hijinks ensue as they enjoy each other and amuse themselves by playing tricks on their fellow tourists. Steam, fluff and laughter aplenty!
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Series: New and Improved S4 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646875
Comments: 58
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

After the bombing, Sedona hadn't nearly been enough honeymoon. Especially since it took them six days to get out of bed for long enough to go hiking, and after all the sex, it turned out she couldn't walk well enough to, you know, actually hike.

So, after two weeks, Logan had booked them on a commercial flight to some tropical island in…somewhere. He'd told her, of course, but he'd been pointing at the map on his phone with a long, strong finger and in the moment it seemed more important to bite that finger than to listen. And then to kiss the resulting smirk off his face. Which was how Veronica Mars, who needed to know everything at all times, ended up on an island where she wasn't even really sure what currency they used. Fuck it. She could charge anything she needed to the room, and they hadn't made it beyond the hotel's private beach anyway.

Logan swore the surfing here was some of the best on earth. She had to take his word for it, because the most the turquoise waves were doing for her was lulling her to sleep as she lay bikini-side-down on her rented board. She'd told Logan she'd take a couple runs at surfing, but really she'd just paddled out to have a better vantage point on him. It was really something, his effortless leap from fully prone to poised on a board that could slice and turn, owning the wave like he could predict every roll of the ocean.

Not to mention the gun show.

Veronica got so caught up in watching that she stayed for most of the afternoon. Logan cruised up next to her, the wave slowing so that just when it seemed he'd wobble off from lack of momentum, he dropped to straddle the board, sitting next to her in the bobbing surf. He shook his wet hair, slicking it back from his face with a palm and giving her the glint of a grin.

"So what do you think, wife of mine? Surf board sunbathing…new favorite new sport?"

"It'll never beat cow-tipping, but it's a start."

He barked with laughter and reached over to trail a fingertip up the back of her thigh. "Getting a little pink there. Better head in if you don't want to spend the rest of the honeymoon on top."

"Promises, promises..."

He gave a low chuckle, his eyes bright. She adjusted her bikini top.

"Meet you in the bar when you're done?" she proposed.

"Always."

She was showered, slicked into a glimmering black minidress, and smelling vaguely of aloe vera by the time it hit five o'clock. She stepped into extra high heels to distract from her distinctly un-sexy sunburn scent and rode the elevator down alone, shaking out her hair to feel it tickle her bare back. The dress only zipped to just above the curve of her ass, then the rest of the back draped in crisscrossing silk scarves.

Overdressed, for sure, to meet her surfer boy who would no doubt come in with sand still clinging to his toes, but it'd be worth it to see his reaction.

The reactions of the other men in the bar, however, were a little less welcome. After a half an hour, she had five untouched champagne spritzers lined up in front of her while she nursed her single dirty martini. The sound of the waves washed in the open wall of windows and she let her eyelids flicker shut just for a second, remembering the way the ocean picked up Logan and carried him, like it loved him best. How he rode it like he loved it back.

Yup, she was probably headed out for a fresh sunburn tomorrow.

"I've got to ask," a male voice said beside her.

She sighed. "Must you?"

"Why five, and why champagne when you're drinking gin?"

She glanced over, registered the guy's wedding ring, and hated him a little more deeply.

"Why bother a woman in the bar when you've already got one of your own to make miserable?"

He raised an eyebrow. He was handsome like a high school geography teacher was handsome, all LL Bean and well-trimmed beard. "I thought you could use a buffer before the bar ran out of champagne. Though clearly you can keep the men at bay on your own."

A laugh caught in her throat and she lifted her drink, her guard easing back a little. "Champagne spritzer's the most expensive thing on the menu, and I figure if none of them are going to take a clear no and a diamond ring as enough of a hint, I might as well hit 'em where it hurts."

He finished his scotch on the rocks and lifted a finger to the bartender. "Another round. McClellan and…" He glanced at her. "Martini."

"Extra dirty," she added and gave him a sharp look. "Don't make me line it up with the others."

He laid a hand over his heart. "I would never. At least partially because my wife's been taking kickboxing classes and I don't want to find out how effective they are. I wanted to take her with me on this trip, but she couldn't get the time off."

Veronica raised an eyebrow and bit an olive off a toothpick. "Work, not pleasure, then?"

"My client is the most entitled, rich son of a bitch to ever grace a golf course," he said, and tried to wring another sip out of his empty scotch. "But he buys every kind of insurance I sell, in the premium package. So, when he says jump, I say 'frequent flier miles.'"

Their drinks arrived and Veronica held her fresh one up in solidarity. A curse sounded from somewhere far back in the bar as one of her suitors saw her finally accept a drink instead of lining it up next to the other abandoned soldiers that were slowly fizzing flat in front of her. She pretended not to notice, but was monitoring the situation in the mirror over the bar. Her clutch was small, but not too small for her taser.

"I know all about rich trust fund boys," she said. "They really take some handling."

The insurance salesman sighed and took a deep slug. "Don't I know it. What about you? Here for the surfing?"

"I am." She smiled, thinking back to her lovely afternoon of spectating. "And the honeymooning. I hear it's spectacular this time of year."

He gave her a lopsided smiled, tugging at his ugly tie. "He's a lucky guy. I'm Alan, by the way. Is the newly minted mister going to award me a fat lip when he shows up?"

"Veronica. Actually, a fat lip isn't really his style. After a fight with him you'd be more likely to be sorting what's left on the carpet into incisors and molars." She sipped her martini. "Though these days, I get to wear the bad cop hat a little more often than he does. If he catches us together, he'll probably shake your hand and buy some life insurance."

"Tamed him, did you?"

She laughed, so loud and long the barkeep's head came up.

"Alarmingly," she said, "I believe he might have tamed me."

The insurance salesman gave her some side-eye that reeked of skepticism. "I'm not sure I believe that."

"Trust me," she said. "You didn't see me before."

The air in the room shifted, and a tall man leaned against the bar next to her. She looked up, almost involuntarily.

He said to Alan, without losing eye contact with Veronica, "I'll give you a million dollars for one night with your wife."

Alan sputtered, "You'll—A mill—"

"Oh, we're not married to each _other_ ," Veronica corrected with a mild smile.

"Oh?" His eyebrows lifted. "I saw you sitting together, both with rings. I assumed."

Veronica spun her stool around, draping her arms across the edges of the bar and leaning back. "No, but my husband's the possessive type, with expensive tastes. For one million, he'd laugh in your face."

"Two million?"

"For two million, he'd _punch_ you in the face."

"Five."

She sipped her drink. "For five million, he'd kick you when you were already down."

"Sounds like a nice guy."

"He is." She beamed.

He leaned a little closer. "What would it take? I have power, connections. Money. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I can't go to my grave without having you. I won't."

He touched her cheek, his fingers tracing from her cheekbone down to the tip of her chin. Every eye in the bar was on them, even the ones who couldn't possibly hear what was being said.

"There's no need to be nervous," he murmured. "I'll be gentle."

She lifted her chin, the space between them sizzling. "What if gentle's not what I want?"

The spark in his eyes became a flame and without another word, he passed over his room key.

She let her eyes sweep down his body, slowly absorbing every inch of this man who seemed so determined to make her his at all costs.

He smelled like the ocean and was dressed like power, loosely held—a white shirt with an open collar and a black blazer with confident, slim lapels. His jeans were dark and expensive, and she could see the muscles of his thighs flex when he moved restlessly.

She didn't realize she was leaning toward him until the corner of his mouth kicked up, the dark brown of his eyes drawing her in like a choice, already made. He touched her under the chin with one strong finger, guiding her the rest of the way to his mouth. It was softer than it looked, his breath coming out warmly when she touched him. His suit lapels slicked smoothly in her palms as she crumpled the fabric and gripped him closer, his thigh strong against the inside of her knee.

Then she was spun around and moved urgently toward the door, her steadiness assured by the big hand splayed at the small of her back. But she was Veronica fucking Mars and she caught her balance and his hand in the first breath, and then she was the one leading the way, towing him along toward the elevator.

Behind them, she heard, "I'll take care of her bill."

"Is that guy really going to try to pay off her husband?" the barkeep asked. "I heard he's fucking huge. A Navy SEAL or something."

She didn't hear the answer, because now they were at the elevators and the doors were opening and he was twirling her inside. She landed with her back up against the mirrored wall and he planted a palm next to her head. Just as he was leaning in to take her lips, someone else boarded the elevator.

She wet her lips. And he just looked. Dark, smoldering eyes and a sense of purpose she could feel like it was leaping across the air between them, rippling light across the sky like an aurora borealis.

"You really going to pay a million for me?" she asked breathlessly.

"Ten."

And despite the onlooker, he bent and bit her lower lip. Sensitively, so every nerve ending thrilled and echoed the fast beat of her heart when he let it go with a quick, healing slick of his tongue.

"Fuck," she said, and her voice came out more gravelly than his. His eyes flared brighter, then his lashes flickered down.

The seams of her dress felt like they should be hissing with steam, straining at the pressure.

A throat cleared, and a button slammed, and the elevator stopped at the next floor.

The other passenger got off, she thought, but wasn't sure because the doors weren't even closed before he was licking his way into her mouth, his broad palms boosting her up onto his hips like it was the most natural movement in the world. Gravity, legs, hips. All inevitable. As was the swell of his erection inside those annoyingly delicious jeans.

His hand wrapped around her leg, found its way under her skirt. Slipped inside her panties. Her head fell back against the mirror with a gasp.

"My husband will kill you, if he finds out you touched me this way."

"I'll let him." He was working her like he meant it now, and when the door opened on his floor, she was so, so close.

"Don't stop," she gritted out through her teeth, catching his strong neck and letting her nails dig into thick muscle.

Her hips bowed. The elevator doors started to close and the side of his fist slammed the door open button. She could feel it, the first sharp, glittering edges of…he slammed the button again. An electronic voice protested this time. Saying…something.

But then his fingers were stretching her and she was coming all around him, clenching down so she could feel his thick knuckles and his breath hot against her neck. She let out a tiny cough gasp and her head fell to his shoulder. He slipped his hand out of her panties and as soon as she was on her feet, he was the picture of detached elegance. Handsome, his smile hidden but his eyes warm. Not straying from hers as the elevator doors sounded their last warning.

He swooped backwards, his hand outstretched to beckon. She followed it, God help her, like it tugged at more places on her body than he could have touched all at once.

Then they were alone in a quiet, cool hall with wide carpets stretching from wall to wall. She licked her lips. He kissed her hand and hop-turned, tucking her fingers into the crook of his arm and leading her toward the only door on the entire top floor. He unlocked it and stepped back, letting her choose whether to come inside. When the door swung closed behind them, she jumped.

The back of his knuckles skimmed close down her rib cage, just beneath her breasts. "Do you want to be here? With me?"

She struggled to swallow.

"I can take you back downstairs, let you meet your husband. He sent me instead, thought you might enjoy…" His thumb stroked over her hip, through the thinly crumpling fabric of her dress. "Something a little different. For tonight."

"Depends." She couldn't stop watching his strong throat. "What are you going to do with me?"

His smile this time was almost boyish, his big hands cupping the backs of her shoulders as he tugged her into his chest and curled his chin down over the top of her head. "Things you can't even imagine, beautiful girl."

He left a kiss just behind her ear, her hair tangling in the rough scrub of his five o'clock shadow. His hand rubbed up her back, slipping beneath the draping silk scarves that made up the entire back of her gown. He thumbed the sore spot at the right of her spine. She huffed out a very different kind of breath, and then he was backing up toward the couch, coaxing her along with him so softly she didn't even realize she was following until the third step.

He dropped down on the couch, suddenly sitting far below her level. He traced a path up the back of her legs, following the seam of her stockings. They ended at thigh height just under the hem of her skirt. When he found the line of her bare skin, he hooked a finger in the front of her stocking and tugged her foot up to rest on the couch beside him. Her stiletto fell off somewhere along the way and fell, soundless on the thick rug. He lay his head on the inside of her thigh, his thick hair tickling against the sensitive skin.

"It's been a long time since I've done this with anyone but my husband," she whispered.

"I'll go easy on you." Dark eyes flicked up to hers as he lifted her skirt and lay a hot kiss right over the front of her panties. "I know _he_ never does."

Her hands caught the back of his neck, clutching hard. "Please."

He pulled her panties down, and they ended up lost somewhere just below her knees when his tongue ran, hot and flat, over her. Her knees went liquid as a squeak rose in her throat, and he lifted her off her feet. With a quick little turn, his arm found her back and lowered her carefully to the couch. Her zipper loosened as his hand stroked its way down her bottom. But then his head disappeared under the disarray of her skirt, and it was her hands that ended up pushing away the top of her dress, fisting and pulling at the fabric as her spine arched mindlessly. He licked and nibbled his way through making her come twice before he sat up, smirking at her with sparkling eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt and she tried to remember how to coax air back into her lungs.

"Extraordinary…" The backs of his knuckles skimmed her cheek as he bent over her again. She slipped her hands under the band of his belt. His eyes glimmered in the starlight coming through the huge windows, the glow of the island's town golden amidst it. He chuckled, his cheekbones standing out in the severe light as he laughed at the speed with which she divested him of his pants. She pushed him back onto the couch, enjoying every inch of his naked body as she wriggled out of her dress and tossed it to the floor, kicking her panties off one ankle.

He gripped her thighs and suddenly he was the one gulping for air as the head of his cock found her and she slid him home, going quiet.

"Fuck—"

"I know."

He jerked up into her, hard and desperate, and all the teasing was gone. She clung to him, her knees fluttering against his lean hips with the deepest, most shattering of his thrusts.

"Dammit," he growled, his voice rough. "I never get used to how it is with you." His head fell back and jaw knotted as he dug his heels into the couch and fucked up into her until she came right after he did, fisting around him for a long, throat-wrenching moment.

His touch gentled and he lifted a kiss from her lips. She exhaled.

Logan lay his forehead against hers. "I missed you today."

"Apparently. I think the bid got up to ten million and you were the only one in the auction."

"I would have paid twenty. Cash money."

He pulled his shirt off the floor and draped it over her shoulders like a throw blanket. It smelled like exquisite cologne and she nuzzled into his neck.

"That poor guy at the bar."

Logan's lips twitched downward. "I always feel sorry for all those mooney-eyed bastards when you walk out of a bar with me. Any bar."

She laughed. "Like I'd ever bother to walk out with any guy but you. No bid would be high enough."

He grinned. "I would pay cash money to see you take apart somebody that did offer a cool million for a night with you."

She walked her fingers up his chest. "I don't know if you can afford the bail for the kind of felonies I'd commit, Echolls."

"Mr. Mars," he corrected, and caught the tips of her fingers in his teeth and so he could take a delicate nibble. "And you're worth the bail. Fuck, I learned commodities markets just so I could always keep up with the bail on your latest adventure."

She laughed at that. "I love you. And you're completely incorrigible."

"Damn right. And I needed both of those things to finally get you on a surf board." He gently patted her sunburnt ass. "What do you say? Best honeymoon ever?"

"Best honeymoon ever."

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

“Hurry up, gorgeous, I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.” Logan held the door to the restaurant for her.

“Pot, kettle. Exertion, appetite.” She gave him a significant look. “You do the math, pretty boy.”

“Two for breakfast?” The hostess smiled at Logan, the stars in her eyes glittering bright enough that Veronica tried to step in front of her new husband. Only to glare even more when she wasn’t tall enough to actually block the other woman’s view of his face.

“Just two,” Logan confirmed, gazing down at Veronica with a fond smirk at her antics.

“Great! That’ll be about a forty-five minute wait, we’re a little slammed this morning with the cruise ship coming in.”

“Logan!” Veronica groaned. “Can’t you spearfish me something faster than that?”

“Sure.” Logan shrugged. “But it’ll take me a minute to get my scuba tanks on, and then I’ll have to clean the fish before we can make ceviche, so forty-five would be faster. Plus, I can’t spear pancakes, and I think that’s what you really wanted.”

“I was joking. You can really spearfish?”

“Uh, yeah.” He looked at her like she’d just asked if he could use a crosswalk.

“Fuck, that’s sexy,” she muttered.

“What?” He bent a little closer to her height.

“I said, can’t you bribe somebody to build us our own table? Or serve us on the beach? I can eat pancakes with my bare hands, no forks required.”

Logan looked to the hostess. “Any chance you could help us out? My wife’s been known to get violent when she’s not fed and I don’t think anybody’s idyllic tropical getaway is going to be improved by a Mars on the warpath.”

“Violent, huh?” The statuesque brunette hostess looked down at Veronica and tittered. “I’ll alert security.”

“They’d never get here in time.”

The brunette blinked, taken aback by Logan’s warning, but Veronica just gave her best Amber smile and slapped Logan’s arm, giggling. “Oh, you. Don’t scare the nice woman, now.”

He took a firmer grip on her waist, his nerves coming alert at the appearance of the Amber persona, and slipped the waitress a folded couple of hundreds. “Could you at least sneak some bacon out of the kitchen while we wait? Just a pound or two should do it.”

“Well, there’s a bit of room at one of the communal cruise ship tables,” the hostess said. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you joined them. They’re a friendly bunch.”

Logan smirked down at her. “Well? What’s it going to be, my little bluebird? Company or starvation?”

“You know what they say about company!” she piped back.

“It loves misery?”

The hostess looked confused. “Was that a yes or a no?”

“Definitely a yes,” Logan said. “Looks like the bacon won’t come soon enough to avert disaster, at this point. She’s been getting a lot of exercise lately.”

“I can tell by the sunburn,” the hostess said, grabbing a couple of menus. “You should really flip over sometimes, honey.”

“Oh, _honey_ , if you could see the view I had, you’d never flip over.”

Logan choked on his laughter as the hostess led them over to a big table currently occupied by two men in their early thirties.

“We were wondering if you might be willing to share your table since we’re running low on seating,” the hostess cajoled. “These two are on their honeymoon…”

“Oh, sit down, sit down, we’ll take good care of them,” one of the men said. He had expensively cut hair and the most beautiful crème-colored linen shirt she’d ever seen. His partner was wearing a loud Hawaiian version and swiped a strip of bacon off his plate while he was busy greeting them. Veronica winked at him and he stole a second piece and passed it to her under the table.

“Do you two already know each other?” Logan asked.

She pretended to cough and stuffed the bacon in her mouth under that cover. “We’re fast friends,” she said around the pilfered meat.

“She’s Veronica,” Logan said. “And I’m just along for the ride.”

“I’m Rishi,” said the man in the linen shirt, shaking Logan’s hand.

“And I’m _definitely_ here for the ride,” purred Hawaiian Shirt next to him.

Veronica laughed and he turned his eyes on her.

“I’m Brian,” he said, “and congratulations on locking that down, honey.”

“All congratulations accepted. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to coax this man to the altar.” She fanned herself. “Penthouse Letters would blush.”

“That wasn’t the half of it,” Logan said, pulling her chair out for her before nodding politely to the waitress’s offer of coffee. “She also had to ask me eight times and upgrade the ring twice.”

“And that was _after_ the Penthouse Letters part.” She sighed. “I’m exhausted.”

Rishi’s lips twitched, and the faintest hint of a blush was starting to show under his light brown skin. “So, um, what do you do?”

“Well, I started by working my tongue in under—”

“She’s a Naval intelligence officer,” Logan interrupted.

“Oh!” Rishi tilted his head. “Would you believe, I have no idea what a Naval intelligence officer actually _does_.”

“I could tell you,” Veronica said, “but then you’d have to do enough security clearance paperwork that you’d want to kill yourself.”

Brian laughed. “That sounds about right.”

“Lets just say if you see any international hotspots down to room temperature?” She winked at Logan, eyes gleaming wickedly. “That was me.”

“Really?” Rishi leaned forward. “Well, that’s just fascinating.”

“Oh, it’s incredibly dangerous and cosmopolitan,” Veronica said, helping herself to the platter of fruit in the center of the table and feeding Logan a grape. He bit into it, a smirk playing around the edges of his mouth.

“I don’t know if it’s _that_ cosmopolitan, honey bear,” he murmured.

“No, it is.” She grinned, batting her eyelashes at him. “Remember that time last summer when they had to get me that bespoke suit and the delicious shoes to go with it, and I pretended I was heading to Russia but we all know those shoes were in as _hell_ in Paris last summer. It’s like undercover work, but with a few more stamps in its passport and a few more dollars in its costume budget. The Navy gets _around_ , boy, you wouldn’t even believe.”

“I didn’t realize you’d been tracking what the Paris fashions were,” Logan said, his jaw tensing just for a second.

“Oh, you’d be surprised what I get interested in, when it’s something that affects my _work_ ,” she said blandly. “I can be very scrupulous about my attention to detail.”

“Well,” Rishi said, glancing back and forth between them. “It’s nice that you have such an, um, healthy self-esteem about your job. What do you do, Logan?”

“He’s a private investigator, nothing special.” Veronica leaned across the table, focused on procuring a slice of cantaloupe.

Brian shot her a mildly disapproving look. “Well, I think that’s delightful, private investigating. You’re the ones that always catch the cheating spouses, right? What a public service.”

“Think way bigger than that,” Logan said. “I basically do the police force’s entire job for them, and internal affairs as well. I cracked a corruption case recently and well…” He chuckled. “You wouldn’t have believed how rotten that department was. They really had to clean house when I got done with them.”

“Really?” Rishi’s eyes had gone wide and he was ignoring his plate entirely. Brian took the opportunity to confiscate the remainder of his bacon. “I didn’t know private investigators could do that.”

“Sure.” Logan kicked his feet up onto an empty chair and tossed a grape up in the air, caught it neatly in his mouth. “Matter of fact, I own my own firm and I rescued a whole high school full of kids from a bomber last week. Just squeezed it in before the wedding. Oh, and closed an insurance fraud case on my phone on the honeymoon, right in between couple’s foot massages and a marathon session in the hot tub.”

“You really are a busy little bee,” Veronica said, her voice getting a touch strained. “I didn’t even realize you’d left the hot tub long enough to uh, notice that. Or the news. That you said you weren’t going to watch.”

“Well, it’s always good to know who the hero of the week is, and how much legal trouble they might be in.” He tossed another grape, dodged to the left to catch it. “It’s a hobby of mine. In between saving children and giving heartfelt wedding speeches.”

“You truly must give me the name of your therapist,” Brian gushed. “I have never seen self-esteems quite so healthy. Have you ever seen self-esteems so healthy, Rishi?”

“Brian…” his husband warned quietly.

“I find, when you’ve got a good thing going, there’s no reason not to brag on it a little.” Veronica patted her husband’s leg. “Don’t you think, sweet pea?”

His lips twitched slightly, but he managed a bland smile. “I do believe my therapist has remarked upon that very thing.”

The waitress showed up. “Are you folks ready to order? Sorry about the wait, we’re just slammed this morning.”

“Don’t I know the feeling,” Veronica said, with an ostentatious wink at her new husband.

Logan gave a restrained, polite smile to the waitress. “She means yes, we’re very ready to order. Why don’t you go first, sugar plum?”

“I’ll have the lumberjack platter,” she said instantly, scanning the menu. “Extra side of bacon, and don’t skimp on the whipped cream on those waffles. Oh, and can you throw in a ham steak?” She snapped her menu closed.

The waitress smiled and started to turn away.

“Oh, we’re not sharing,” Logan said. “I’ll have an egg white and avocado omelet. Do you have turkey bacon?” At her nod, he said, “I’ll take a half order of that, then. You can hold the toast, please.”

Veronica shook her head. “What’s a girl got to do to get you to work up an appetite around here?”

The waitress choked. Rishi was blushing again.

Logan grinned. “We’ve got all afternoon to find out, love.” To the waitress he said, “Better bring her an espresso, too.”

Rishi and Brian seemed to be having a complex conversation with their eyes, but then Rishi patted Brian’s sleeve and sat back firmly.

“So is being a naval intelligence officer very dangerous, Veronica?”

“Being a P.I. is way more dangerous,” Logan broke in. “You don’t have air strikes for backup, or a team of professionals backing you up. It’s very Lone Ranger, dealing with some of the most dangerous people you can imagine. Russian mobsters, Irish drug dealers with hair tempers, trophy wives…” He shuddered.

“No more dangerous than parachuting into hostile countries to do backdoor machinations that could lead to non-Geneva-Convention approved ‘interrogations’ if I get caught,” Veronica interrupted. “Naval intelligence is way more dangerous than being a little old private investigator. I used to fly jet planes, you know,” she said to Brian. “Only the tippy top percent of graduates are allowed into the program.” She picked through the strawberries. “The adrenaline was great, and I was a highly decorated pilot, medals just _all the time_ but it wasn’t enough of an intellectual challenge for me.”

Brian coughed. “Well isn’t that…very descriptive. How about Logan’s job, though? It sounds like he’s done some pretty amazing stuff.”

She shrugged. “I guess. Saving a single school full of kids isn’t much when you’ve saved whole countries. That’s how I got out of flying jets, actually. My CO recommended me for an early transfer after a training mission went off course, and my quick thinking was all that saved us from an international incident that very well could have kicked off a new world war.”

Logan put a hand on her arm. “Careful, honey. Aren’t you skirting close to some things that might be classified?”

“No, it’s okay.” Brian put down his napkin and pushed out his chair. “Because we’ve got to be going anyway.”

“Very nice to meet you,” Rishi interjected. “Thank you for your service,” he said to Veronica.

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s actually a huge sacrifice, but that’s no big deal when you’re a real life, actual hero.”

Logan’s coffee must have gone down the wrong pipe, because he started coughing into a napkin.

“Well, isn’t that sweet,” Brian said flatly. He touched Logan’s shoulder. “Let me give you a little tip, from people who have been married longer than five minutes. A little respect for _each other’s_ jobs as well as your own? It goes a long way toward making a healthy marriage.” He sniffed.

“Listen, Brian, if our marriage gets any healthier, I’ll have to order two Lumberjack platters,” Veronica said.

The couple hurried away, looking mildly annoyed, and she smiled.

“And _that’s_ how you get a table to yourself,” Logan said, holding his hand up.

“No bribe necessary.” Veronica slapped him a high five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of my S4 fix its for now! Thanks for reading along, friends!

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: 2 chapters in this one, folks, and I hope you don't mind me moving them out of Sedona. Considering they weren't big hikers in the series, it didn't seem like where they would really honeymoon.


End file.
